Friday evening

Martijn with Roberta and David in Eijsden, autum 2005.

Today was a good day. After his second surgery to stop the internal bleeding yesterday, Martijn rested through the night enough so his medical team felt he could be moved to a regular room on the surgical floor. It’s a private room with a huge western facing picture window that overlooks the lovely wooded Maastricht countryside. This evening’s sunset flooded his room and we sat together watching glorious autumnal colours streak the night sky. Never was seeing a sunset more appreciated.

Earlier in the day his brother Janus, mother Geri and her life partner, Marcel, visited and we chatted happily aware that Martijn has won another day.

And, that is how it will be; I am deeply conscious of the fragile threads that link this strong and spirited man to his mortal coil. They are the tubes that currently feed him oxygen, hydration (as he is still not permitted food or water), and drain his fluids and surgical wounds from many orifices, natural and man made. My good friend Nancy said Martijn was like a soldier who had been blown apart on the battle field, only a soldier would not have been previously weakened by chemo therapy, radiation and wasted by the cancer itself. Being with him today, chatting as though he was not tethered to so many life supports was excellent for my spirit, but after yesterday’s frightening realities, I understand the paradox of appreciating each new day while respecting the tentativeness of everything.

David Fey departed this morning. I simply would not have made it through these last days without his absolute friendship and quiet, steady support. He complimented my brother-in-law, Janus, who knew what to do, what to ask, when to be where. They allowed me to concentrate only on my love for Martijn, the greatest gift at this time. Completing the triage trinity has also been our guardian spirit Barbara Greenberg, anticipating the needs of sustenance and transport. It is as though she possess a spiritual GPS.

It is very late here tonight and I’m at once exhilarated at the capacity Martijn has to regenerate, but more, to soar in this moment; at the same time I’m exhausted to my core, reaching for more energy to endure this journey. And the moment I doubt my ability to replenish, the palpable field of energy that fills Martijn and me with light and life buoys me. You have created this force field. You are literally participating in this road to recovery.

If there is any lesson in this ordeal, it is that the human capacity to love conquers fear and loneliness and stimulates healing. You are so integral to our survival - so willing to walk this path with us. Before I left Martijn this evening, bathed in the fleeting light of sunset, he turned and said to me, “Please tell everyone that I feel their love and support and wish to be able to return it.” And, he added, his humor healthy and in tact as his body is not, “I also wish to sit on a terrace with an ice-cold Hoegarden beer with a sliver of lemon!” Here’s hoping he gets all his wishes. More later.